Parallel Dreams
by erunyauve
Summary: Complete. Four Silmarillion vignettes inspired by Loreena McKennitt's 'Parallel Dreams'. Part 4: The nursery has a rather unusual visitor.
1. But what of Finduilas?

  
**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Tolkien. Translations of Elvish (Sindarin, unless otherwise stated) and additional notes follow the chapter.  
**Contact:** erunyauve at lycos dot com (replace 'at' and 'dot' in the obvious places)  
  


**But what of Finduilas?** [1]

  
_You care nothing for a man  
Who cares so very much for thee_ [2]  
  
"Finduilas, will you not ride out with me this morning?"  
  
She is precious to him. Selfishly, he keeps her here at Nargothrond in such evil times, though here she has no peace.  
  
"I sense that Gwindor's return has not eased your mind as it might."  
  
"I fear I am faithless, Adar. My heart turns now to another."  
  
"Túrin?" Gentle is his voice; she seems to him a glass figurine: lovely, so easily shattered.  
  
Her slender fingers trace the ribbons woven into the mane of her horse. "Indeed. But I am not loved."  
  
"Gwindor cares for you still."  
  
"Would that love might be otherwise dealt betwixt the three of us, but my heart warns me that in Túrin lies my hope."  
  
"Yet you say he loves you not."  
  
"He sees me not as a maid but a great lady. He cannot love me for the honour he bestows upon me."  
  
"As he should honour you. Yet, I would not have you pine so, Finduilas."  
  
"Have you not said that Men will inherit Ennor and our labours shall come to dust?"  
  
"The Valar have spoken this doom."  
  
"Then do I not have wisdom in placing my hopes in Túrin, as you also have done, Adar?"  
  
"Hope and happiness are not the same. One accepts a doom because one must."  
  
Finduilas bows her head, golden curls tumbling forward to hide her face. "The heart is no less a master than doom."  
  
'Doom is not so fickle, _sell nín_,' he thinks. Alas, that she cares no longer for Gwindor as he still cares for her. Orodreth is fond of Túrin, fond as if he were a son, but the man brings unhappiness to his daughter. [3]  
  
She has not her mother's strength. Fragile, a leaf at the whim of the wind, Finduilas is too much like him.

* * *

[1] _"But what of Finduilas?"_  
The title comes from Finduilas' words to Gwindor. (_Unfinished Tales_, 'Narn i Hîn Húrin' p 166 pub Ballantine/Del Rey)  
  
[2] _You care nothing for a man…_  
Lyrics: 'Annachie Gordon', a traditional ballad.  
  
[3] _sell nín_  
daughter of mine  
  



	2. Those Who Wait We Have Forgotten

  
**Author's Note:** Meril is based on a composite of Tolkien's fits and starts concerning Gil-galad's parentage - the name comes from that of Finrod's wife when Gil-galad was briefly the Finrod's son. Her background comes from Tolkien's description of her as Orodreth's wife and Gil-galad's mother. [1]  
**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Tolkien. Translations of Elvish (Sindarin, unless otherwise stated) and additional notes follow the chapter.  
**Contact:** erunyauve at lycos dot com (replace 'at' and 'dot' in the obvious places)  
  


**Those Who Wait We Have Forgotten**

  
_Oh my heart be strong  
And guide when eyes grow dim  
When ears grow deaf with empty words  
When I know there's life within_ [2]  
  
The air in the drawing room was stale, as if the walls of Nargothrond held their breath with the elves. Finduilas dared not speak, for her father had asked her to be brave and she was not brave. She feared that if she opened her mouth she would never stop the torrent of fears. Túrin would return; of this, she was certain. No foe could strike him down while he wore his Dragon-helm. Yet, her heart whispered of great evils to come.  
  
A journal of the building of Nargothrond lay open in Celebrimbor's hands, but the elf-maid knew he stared at it unseeing, for the pages remained unturned. Her mother stood near the doorway, her hands folded behind her back, her face composed. Only one near to her would know of her distress, betrayed by her very stillness, for Meril was a lady of great energy and little patience.  
  
Finduilas threw down her work. "I cannot sit here and do aught but wait."  
  
"What else can we do?"  
  
"Perhaps tidings have come from the battle."  
  
"Then I shall be the first to hear them, Finduilas."  
  
She shook her head - she could not sit quietly as if waiting for a servant to announce the evening meal! "At the least, I might bring heart to the guard."  
  
Meril stood aside and let her daughter pass; Finduilas was as stubborn as her father and equally unsuited to times of war. Only in her impatience did she resemble her mother.  
  
The lady did not share the confidence Finduilas and Orodreth had placed in Túrin. Both father and daughter fell too easily into the trap of the bold and confident, with pretty promises of great victories. Meril had lived among the Noldor for the greater part of her life, yet their penchant for rushing into doom still bewildered her.  
  
She supposed that she had made an equally poor choice, but love between Elves had neither reason nor wisdom. If she had a weakness, it was for the golden elf to whom she had bound herself and her fate.  
  
Ragged breathing broke the silence of the corridor. In her mind, Meril hurried the steps of the approaching messenger. If ill tidings must come, she would not delay them. She could not tolerate this wait.  
  
"You bring word from my husband, I trust?"  
  
The messenger looked near to hysteria or collapse. "A greater army than we knew awaited us - our host is forced toward Tumhalad. The King orders the bridge struck down." [3]  
  
"You have no more to tell me?" Meril asked sharply.  
  
"He sends this to you."  
  
Meril unwrapped the bundle. Against the bloodstained handkerchief, the emeralds looked dull, the serpents and golden flower lustreless. She blinked away tears. "Find Guilin and tell him that the bridge is to be broken as best as his guard can manage. Make haste!" [4]  
  
Celebrimbor caught her eye questioningly. "If this is done, Orodreth shall have no refuge should he manage a retreat."  
  
She lowered her head. "I must trust that if he thought a retreat possible, he would not have ordered it so." She set her jaw; grief must wait. She had a city to defend. "The passages of the Noegyth Nibin - what do you know of them?"  
  
"Too little, _brennillen_. I know how to reach them, but I would be a poor guide." [5]  
  
"I fear all chances are fraught with peril." She paused to still the tremble that threatened to overtake her voice. "Gather those you can find and lead them thither."  
  
"What of Finduilas?"  
  
A great thud shook the ground above them and screams echoed in the hollow corridors.  
  
"We have no time left to us." She put the handkerchief with its precious contents into his hand. "Should you reach Balar, see that this comes to my son."  
  
"You do not go with me?"  
  
"I cannot."  
  
"Your husband would want you to take heed for your safety."  
  
"My husband would not fly while his people remained in peril, and in his place, neither shall I."  
  
When Celebrimbor had gone, she took up a sword from its honoured place over the mantle. Once, it had belonged to Finrod, and now, she hoped it would bring her a measure of his courage.  
  
In the depths of Nargothrond, her life would end very suddenly. As her daughter stumbled forward in a string of captives under an orc's lash, Meril slid without a cry to the stone floor, her blood trailing on the wall in grotesque graffiti, the single testament to her life.  
  
For no minstrel would sing of her fall. The Lady of Nargothrond would pass unremarked; the loremasters would not even record her name. But one would return from Tumhalad, and he would soon enough meet his fate, and none would remain to remember those who wait.  
  
_May the spirit never die  
Though a troubled heart feels pain  
When this long winter is over  
It will blossom once again_

* * *

[1] the parentage of Gil-galad  
(_The War of the Jewels_, 'The Later Quenta Silmarillion' p 242 pub Houghton Mifflin; _The Peoples of Middle-earth_, 'The Shibboleth of Fëanor' pp 350-351 pub Houghton Mifflin)  
  
[2] _Oh my heart be strong..._  
Lyrics: 'Breaking the Silence' by Loreena McKennitt. The song was written in honour of Amnesty International, but parts of it adapt well to the plight of the Elves near the end of the First Age.  
  
[3] 'A greater army than we knew awaited us - our host is forced toward Tumhalad.'  
Only Túrin survived the Battle of Tumhalad. This messenger is a fabrication - I'm assuming he would have left Orodreth before the elves were trapped but after Orodreth saw the extent of the Orc host.  
  
[4] the emeralds looked dull, the serpents and golden flower lustreless  
Since this was the symbol of Finarfin's House, I've imagined that Orodreth might have had a ring similar to Finrod's. (_The Silmarillion_, 'Of Beren and Lúthien' p 196 pub Ballantine/Del Rey)  
  
[5] _brennillen_  
my lady. (Constructed from _brennil_, 'lady' and _-n_, possessive singular suffix. The _l_ doubles according to Sindarin orthography and the _e_ is inserted as a helping vowel, as attested by _guren_.)  



	3. Fair and Brave

  
**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Tolkien. Translations of Elvish (Sindarin, unless otherwise stated) and additional notes follow the chapter. The url for Didier Willis' _Hiswelókë's Sindarin Dictionary_ (referenced below) can be found via my home page - ff net removes urls in stories.  
**Contact:** erunyauve at lycos dot com (replace 'at' and 'dot' in the obvious places)  
  


**Fair and Brave** [1]

  
_You sang me of some distant past  
That made my heart beat strong and fast  
Now I know I'm home at last  
You offered me an eagle's wing  
That to the sun I might soar and sing  
And if I heard the owl's cry  
Into the forest I would fly  
And in its darkness find you by_ [2]  
  
Were it not for the noble carriage and depth of wisdom in her eyes, I might have mistaken the King's daughter for a simple maid. A warming sun called to all of Gondolin in the wake of the Fell Winter, and by the Fountains of the South, musicians played harp and flute and tambourine while elves leapt and spun in the fountain's spray.  
  
Yet I saw none but a maid wreathed in golden hair and laughter, her white skirts gathered in hand to reveal bare feet that hardly touched the ground as she danced.  
  
What chance had I, a mortal Man, to woo a lady so fair and brave? What chance had I, a lord among men enslaved, before the daughter of Turgon _taur edledhrim_? [3]  
  
I am far beneath her, I know, for though I have lived most of my life in the company of Elves, she shines even among the Calaquendi. She is fairer than any of her kin, more wise than a master of lore.  
  
And yet she is kind, as sweet as the scent of roses, as gentle as a whisper of wind. No pains can withstand the touch of her hand; no shadow can darken her light.  
  
A Idril! To sit in congress with her, neath the cherry trees in spring, her face aglow in the pink shade of their blossoms - to steal kisses under the canopy of trees as we stroll in the Market on a summer's afternoon - in such pleasures, I find all the happiness I should want.  
  
The days darken, she says; she hearkens to Ulmo's warning, even if Turgon will not. In each other, we have placed our trust, plighted our troth with promises of love and devotion, whatever the morrow may bring. Hope, my father promised her father, hope in the union of our Houses.  
  
In hope, then, we shall tread forth together, fearing neither curse nor shadow. May my love be her comfort, as her light is a guide to me.  
  
_Our fingers touch our hearts collide  
I'll be a moonsbreath by your side_

* * *

[1] 'Fair and Brave'  
The title is paraphrased from Tolkien's description of Idril. (_The Book of Lost Tales 2_, 'The Fall of Gondolin' p 166 pub Ballantine/Del Rey)  
  
[2] _You sang me of some distant past…_  
Lyrics: 'Samain Night' by Loreena McKennitt  
  
[3] _taur edledhrim_  
[High] King of the Exiles. The spelling of the latter word takes a few twists. _The Lost Road_, 'Etymologies' has _taur egledhriur_ (_TÁ-,TA_3, p 435 pub Ballantine/Del Rey). This was a misreading of Tolkien's handwriting. According to _Vinyar Tengwar_, 'Addenda and Corrigenda to the Etymologies', the entry should read: _taur egledhrim_. (ed Carl F Hostetter and Patrick H Wynne, _TÁ-,TA_3, p 16 Issue No 46, July 2004) To further complicate matters, Tolkien seems to have decided that Common Eldarin _ET-_ would become _ed-_ in Sindarin, rather than _eg-_ as seen in the Noldorin of the 'Etymologies', and I have spelt the word accordingly. (Didier Willis, _Hiswelókë's Sindarin Dictionary_)  
  



	4. Moon Cradle

  
**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Tolkien. Translations of Elvish (Sindarin, unless otherwise stated) and additional notes follow the chapter.  
**Contact:** erunyauve at lycos dot com (replace 'at' and 'dot' in the obvious places)  
  


**Moon Cradle**

  
_The moon-cradle's rocking and rocking  
Where a cloud and a cloud go by  
Silently rocking and rocking  
The moon-cradle out in the sky_ [1]  
  
Sometimes, she walks the path of her son's dreams. His world is small as he is, bounded by milk and swaddling and nestle of loving arms. Yet his dreamscapes are grand; in his sleep, he wanders among the stars.  
  
She steals on soundless feet, flush from dancing and eager to go to her bed and her mate. But first, she will see that all is well; she will gaze upon his face, in love and awe of this jewel that is her child.  
  
Quiet is the nursery, lullabies hours ago sung and baby laid to sleep content. In a circle of moonlight, the cradle rocks without hand to guide it. His blue eyes look to the window and his tiny features crinkle with delight. He laughs.  
  
"Mercy me," the nurse whispers, "if the hand of Tilion himself does not move this cradle."  
  
His mother has sat at the very knee of Manwë and still she catches her breath. _Ardamírë_, she names her son, a name of _apacen_, a name of great destiny for one so small and helpless. In his dreams, Ardamírë sails the firmament, and all its host watches over him, for they know him as kin. [2,3]

* * *

[1] _The moon-cradle's rocking and rocking…_  
Lyrics: 'Moon Cradle' by Padraic Colum  
  
[2] _Ardamírë_  
'Jewel of the World' (Q). Eärendil's mother-name.  
  
[3] _apacen_  
foresight (Q)  
  



End file.
